Long Recovery
by Lissa Raven
Summary: Wasp is hurt while on a mission. No big deal. Happens all the time. Except for the fact that now Hank is her attending doctor, and fighting crime and risking her life? Well, that could tear her stitches. Rated T to be safe.


_Monitor duty, _Janet van Dyne (AKA The Wasp) thought, _is hella boring._ The youngest member of the Avengers sighed and propped her feet up onto the big metal computer or whatever that Tony had her watching. To be fair, it wasn't _just_ monitor duty. Tony and Steve had both ganged up on her and not cleared her for battle until she could at least shrink without her stitches coming out-much to her anger.

They even threatened to call Hank and have him be her acting doctor, say that _really_ Pym wouldn't clear her until her had made sure there wasn't even a scar from the gash across her abdomen.

_It's just not fair!_

And, unfortunately, the team had taken to having members rotate on "Jan Duty". Tonight was T'challa's turn. And T'challa didn't talk. Like ever.

Okay, yeah, sometimes T'challa talked, but _never for the sake of conversation_. Unless he wanted to...you know...make a sarcastic comment to make Tony and Hawkeye both feel inferior.

Basically, T'challa was drag.

As her mind was wondering-coming up with different ways to punish all of her male teammates-it caught her off guard whenever her phone started ringing. So off guard that she fell out of her chair.

The superhero cursed under her breath and held her stomach as red sticky liquid started to seep out of the almost-healed wound. She quickly grabbed her phone and flipped it open. Assuming it was Carol, she pressed the call answer button without looking and the phone to her ear.

"Hey, can this wait? I think I just tore my tore my stitches. I can get T'challa to cover me on the monitors for long enough for Jane to come by and patch me up. And before you start yelling at me, I wasn't training or anything! I just fell out of my chair! So, no need to go Ms. Marvel on me," She breathed out as she tried to assess the damage she had done.

"_Ms. Marvel? No, this is Hank. What do you mean, stitches, Jan? Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Stupid question, of course you're hurt. I'll be right there!"_

"No, Hank! No need-!" But, alas, it was too late as he had already ended the call.

"I am finding that it is wise for you to always look at the caller IDs, Janet," T'challa spoke coolly from his meditating stance. Janet narrowed her eyes at him, before standing-and wincing as she saw to what end her stitches were torn.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," She shrugged off the sarcastic comment and grabbed her abandoned chair for support, "Can you just help me into Med Bay?" The king sighed before standing up.

"Of course," He spoke smoothly as he carefully placed himself under her arm and grabbed her knees to where he was carrying her bridal style. "You're much easier to carry when ever you're the size of a wasp."

"I'll keep that in mind," Janet hissed through gritted teeth as she tried not to let how much this particular injury was hurting her. Panther had quickly deposited her in Med Bay with a towel to squelch the bleeding. The older man turned and walked quickly back into the monitor room, but not before promising to let Henry in.

And as soon as he was gone, the heroine felt cool tracks of tears roll from her eyes down her face. She prodded her abdomen with the towel, informing herself only of how much blood there was. She twisted the grab a clean towel, but that irritated the gash even more. Fresh tears fell as she gritted her teeth and tried to find a way to deal with the pain. Tony wouldn't cry if he had a gash. Cap wouldn't. Steve wouldn't. Hulk would even _get_ the goddamned gash.

And now the man she knew for a fact she loved was on his way over for the first time in weeks and he was going to see her like _this_. _A whole new meaning of building a relationship on blood, sweat, and tears, huh_? The girl chuckled at her own joke, but quickly deciding that laughing was _not the right thing to do_ right now.

She concluded the same after having to sneeze.

And then the double doors to Med Bay were being opened and T'challa and Hank walked in to see her hunched over and bleeding.

"Hey, T'challa," Hank started, "Do you think I could this in private?" At T'challa's nod, the Panther turned and disappeared into the monitor room. Hank took a minute to remind himself not to freak out at the amount of blood.

"You didn't have to come here, Hank," Janet told him as he peeled the bloodied towel away from her abdomen, "Jane would've been able to treat me considering the fact that I am fine."

"Jan, stop," He told her, his eyes flicking from her stomach-where they had settled while he tried to figure out a way to get her shirt off so he could see the wound without...you know...taking her shirt off, "I may not be an Avenger, but I still care about you-all of you. I want to know that you're okay and I don't want to hear it from Tony or Jane or even you. I want to see it with my own eyes. Now, I know this will be weird, but I need you to take off your shirt."

Jan sighed and obeyed, peeling her-now ruined-favorite shirt off of her figure, leaving her in only jeans and her black lacy bra that was a size too small but still _so unbelievably comfortable_. Of course, not exactly comfortable in this situation. Her ex-something patching her up while she still, clearly, had feelings for him. She sat up straighter to allow him to survey the wound.

"How did you get this?" He asked as he began to take out the mangled stitches, his eyes flicking up to hers again, "Or do I want to know?"

"Executioner's axe," She breathed out, burying the urge to fidget while one of Hank's hand was splayed across her ribs to keep her still. "Apparently, it does more than freeze and heat things. It actually acts like an axe."

"This might hurt...a lot," Hank looked at her apologetically as he doused a cotton pad with rubbing alcohol. Just as he was about to apply it to her wound, he stopped and looked up at her. "Here," He started as he took her hand, "Squeeze my hand. Focus on that while I clean you up."

Janet nodded and mentally prepared herself for the sting that she knew was coming, but as the alcohol actually made contact with her stomach, she couldn't help her quick intake of air and shaky outtake. She squeezed his hand as her head fell forward-biting her lip and closing her eyes tightly so as not to cry or cry out. She let Hank's hand keep her grounded as she tried to think of rainbows and butterflies and pulling pranks on Cap and Tony. She let her hair fall in front of he face as an icy pain shot through her midsection. She begrudgingly allowed herself to focus once more on the pain until she felt something very much unlike pain.

She felt Hank squeeze her hand back. A small squeeze, as if to remind her that he was there. So she opened her eyes and actually looked at her former partner. His sandy blonde hair was messy and ignored while dark circles under his eyes seem to add on to his age. He wore a simple dark red sweatshirt with a yellow wasp on it-the sweatshirt, Janet realized, that she had given him for Christmas-and dark, faded jeans. And even though his mind seemed clear and aware, Janet could always she through Hank.

"When was the last time you slept?" She asked as he had finished cleaning the actual wound and moved on to start cleaning the blood around the cut.

"Sorry?" He asked her, even though she knew he had heard him.

"Hank," She sighed, squeezing his hand again, "When was the last time you took a day off and slept?"

He sighed and put down the cleaning utensils so could gather what he needed to re-stitch her. He began to quickly and efficiently stitch her up, waiting long enough after the question that she began to think he wouldn't answer.

"I was about to," He admitted as he finished the last stitch and looked up at his ex-something. He grabbed a makeup wipe from a pack that she had left at his lab and he had thrown into his medicine bag whenever he called her. He began to gently wipe away to tear tracks-knowing she didn't want to look weak in front of him or her team. "I was calling as a force of habit, to admit that I was taking some hours off and going to sleep when you thought I was Carol."

"Oh my gosh, Hank, I'm so sorry!" She squeezed his hand and looked up at him. She was still sitting with her legs dangling off of a medical med, and he was standing in front of of-one step closer and he'd be in between her legs. "I was being stupid and tore my stitches, but Jane could've patched me up! You need to sleep!"

"Stop it, I already told you. I needed to make sure that you're safe," He told her as his unoccupied hand cradled her cheek. "You mean so much to me, Jan. We were friends for years. Just because we're not on the same team anymore doesn't mean that we can't be in each other's lives, does it?"

"I guess not," The girl smiled up at him and made a move to jump off of the bed that was quickly intercepted by Hank, one arm around her shoulders, the other supporting her knees.

"I don't think so, Jan," He began as he carried her to the common room. He sat her down gently on the plush couch.

"Hey! I can walk!" She argued despite the pink blush that was blooming across her cheeks.

"I'm sure you can, Janet, but you can't just shrug off stitches. You already tore them once. This time, I'm your attending. And you will not be cleared for anything until I am happy with your healing process!" He told her sternly as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. A booming laughter erupted from the entrance to the room and both Hank and Jan turned to see the source-Thor-standing with Tony and Hawkeye as they watched the exchange.

"Guess we'll be seeing a lot more of you, now, Pym," Hawkeye smiled and walked away to the kitchen.

"Tis joyous that you have decided to help friend Jan with her recovery, friend Pym. You are quite a true companion to her!" Thor smiled and made his goodbyes, leaving Hank staring and Janet glaring at Tony.

Seeing the narrowed eyes from his teammate, Tony smile and raised his armor-covered hands in surrender, "Hey, I didn't call him! That threat was made for if you tried to fight."

"You were going to fight in this condition!" Hank swiveled his head and stared at her like she was crazy.

"Thanks, Tony," Wasp hissed at him as he began to leave, "Thanks a lot."

"Are you crazy!?" Hank continued, "Out on the field, you would've torn your stitches in a heartbeat! And you heal slowly, Janet! What the hell were you thinking!?"

Janet groaned and threw her head back into the cushions of the couch.

This was gonna be a long ass recovery.


End file.
